Down But Not Out
by jumpertrainer
Summary: A little story to fill in the blanks after the Season 1 finale.


Soo... I wrote this _before_ A Way Through The Darkness, but I used the dream scene out of it for that story...sooo...sorry for the repetition. Just thought I'd post it anyway ;-)

I don't own White Collar, or any of the character...Just having fun until Jan!

Chapter One

Special Agent Peter Burke sat starring at the fake Monet on the wall. He shook a chill off as it ran down his back. Even after all he had seen working in the FBI's White Collar division, he would never look at a painting the same way now that he had worked with his current CI, Neal Caffery. That thought had him looking at his watch again. He had been sitting in this hospital waiting room for a very long hour. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the headache that lingered behind his eyes. He could still smell the burned jet fuel on his clothes, and he desperately wanted a shower. He just had to know if Neal was alright. He heard the emergency room doors open, and felt a cold rush of air come through. Familiar footsteps were coming in his direction, but he sat still not wanting to open his eyes and let the ache back in.

"Peter." It was Jones, one of his faithful team members. The same smell of smoke and fuel was following him. He had undoubtebly come from the crime scene. He shivered at the memory of watching that plane explode right in front of him. Neal could have been on that plane. Neal almost was on that plane.

He opened his eyes and focused on his junior agent. "What's up Jones?"

"How's Caffery?" There was obvious concern in his voice.

"Haven't heard anything. They've been in there over an hour." He took the liberty of stealing another glance at his watch.

"I thought you could use this." Peter hadn't even noticed before that Jones was holding two cups of coffee . Oh yes, he thought, he could definitely use the caffeine.

As he reached for the cup Jones was extending in his direction, the sound of a door sliding open behind him caught his attention. He spun around in his seat to see a nurse pushing Neal out in a wheelchair. He jumped to his feet, narrowly missing the coffee in Jones's hand. Composed yourself damn it, he thought as he struggled to calmly walk the fifteen feet to where Neal was.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Neal…"

"Really Peter…I'm fine." Peter watched as Neal slowly got to his feet. He had three butterfly bandages over his left eye, and his left arm was in a sling, but Peter had to admit, he did look alright for the most part.

"Let me take you home." Neal just nodded in response. Peter was waiting to see grief, or at least some kind of acknowledgement in Neal's eyes as to the events of the day, but there was nothing. Neal was so good at putting on that mask. It worried him at times like these; you just could never know what Neal was thinking for sure.

"Sign him out Jones?" Peter picked up the coffee that Jones had set down on the adjacent counter. He turned towards the exit door, and he and Neal walked to the car without saying a word.

The two men rode to the house in silence, neither knowing whether they should say anything. Neal could feel Peter's desire to say something, but was glad when he didn't. The ride across town seemed to take so much longer than usual, and he was glad when they finally pulled up in front of the familiar white stone house. Even as he opened the door to get out of the car, there was silence. He knew Peter wasn't any good at emotionally sensitive subjects. He let the car door shut as he turned to the house.

"Neal…" Peter's voice made him stop in his tracks. He closed his eyes tightly, but didn't dare turn to face him. "Neal…I am sorry…"

His hands trembled at the words, he didn't trust his own voice, so he just stared at the ground for a moment. There was no way he would let Peter know how shaken he was. He slowly walked to the house, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him the whole way. He took a deep breath as he reached for the door. He just hoped that June was not here. She was so good to him, letting him rent the apartment upstairs. She always treated him more like a son than anything, but he just could not face her right now. All he wanted was sleep.

All was clear as he crossed the main floor, and headed up to his apartment, but the lights were on as he opened his door.

"Moz." He felt his whole body tighten as he acknowledged his long time friend, sitting at the dining table.

"I heard Neal. I wasn't sure you'd come back, but the suits said they were dropping you off."

Neal just stared at him. He had been friends with the short little bald man for a very long time, but he just wasn't ready to talk to anyone. There was a tightness in his stomach, and a pounding in his head, and he just wasn't sure of himself. He could feel the darkness coming, and he didn't want anyone around when it came.

"I don't want to talk Moz."

"Hey man, I just wanted to make sure you were still in one piece."

"Please …Moz…just leave me alone right now." It came out wrong. It came out harsh. He could see the hurt in Mozzie's face, but right now he wasn't sure he cared.

"Fine. Alright." Mozzie stood hastily and walked to the door. "For what it's worth Neal…"

"I know Moz." He watched as his old friend disappeared and the door closed. He was finally alone.

He eased his arm out of the sling the hospital had insisted on, and laid it on the table. Better get something to drink before trying to take off any of the other clothes. He walked to the wine rack. Ten different expensive bottles and nothing really sounded good. He slowly ran his finger along the top of the wooden wine rack. The open bottle of Latour was as good as any. He poured himself a glass, and closed his eyes for a brief moment as the familiar warmth of the wine filled his body. He took a deep stinging breath, and the reality of the day came rushing back. He needed to get out of these clothes. He needed to get the smell off of him.

He crossed back to the table and set the empty wine glass down. His shoulder throbbed as he slid his finally tailored Gucci suit coat off. He wasn't sure he would wear it again. He put it in a chair, and piled the rest of his clothes on top. They would just have to wait until later, a long hot shower and soft sheets were calling his name.

_Neal walked briskly across the airport hanger. He could see the Lear jet waiting on the other side with the door open. It wouldn't be long now, he thought to himself. Four years of waiting, and finally just about a hundred yards away sat Kate. He had missed her. It had nearly torn him apart when she stopped visiting him in prison. It had hurt, he had been angry for a while. But ever since he had been out, he had been looking for her. He loved her, no matter what. It wouldn't be long now, and they would be off to somewhere they could start over. A new life. Together. _

_As he reached the edge of the hanger, he could see her in the doorway. An almost overwhelming sense of joy ran through him at the sight of her. He wouldn't have to go on without her anymore._

"_Neal!" It was Peter. He had hoped that Peter wouldn't have found them. He was the only one he hadn't been able to face saying goodbye to. He didn't want to admit it, but he had become very fond of Peter these last few months._

"_Weren't you going to say goodbye?"_

_Neal just stared at him. He couldn't, not to Peter. He reached down in his pocket and pulled out his FBI ID that Peter had given to him. _

"_Thank you Peter. For everything." He held the ID out to Peter. He wouldn't need it where he was going._

"_No you keep it. I hope it reminds you of all the good you've done here. You had a life here Neal, a good life."_

"_It's not the life I want." He turned to walk towards the plane, towards the life he did want. Almost there. He could see her smile now, she was waiving to him from the seat just inside the door. Only one hundred feet to go, and he'd be free. No more tracking anklet, no more FBI, just him and Kate. _

_He would miss Peter. Peter had been there for him, even during his trial, even while he was in prison, Peter had been there. There was a small bit of regret about having to leave Peter. But the life with Kate and the life with Peter would never mix. _

_He turned, regret showing on his face, and looked at Peter. He could see the hope in Peter's face that he would change his mind. _

"_Peter…"_

_It was like a wall of heat hit him from behind. His body was hurled at Peter with amazing force. As he turned he could see the plane burning. Was he screaming? There was no sound, everything was silent. He tried to go to her. He had to save her from that fiery inferno. But something was holding him back. It was Peter. He felt something hot against his face; he tried to pull free, but couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but watch. You couldn't see the plane any longer, just a red fire ball._

Neal awoke in a panic, and abruptly sat up in bed. Under his hands he could feel the silk sheets were soaked in sweat. He pressed a hand to his forehead in an effort to make the pounding go away. The twisted knot in his stomach was still there, and he felt nauseous. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to feel something other than this emptiness that lingered in him. He felt dull.

As he swung his feet to the ground, and sat on the edge of the bed, someone was banging on the door. It couldn't be June, she wouldn't be so loud.

"What?" he yelled irritably at the closed door.

"It's Jones. Let me in."

Jones. Great. That was the last person he wanted to see right now. Maybe something was wrong with Peter. A slight twinge ran through his body at the thought. He used what energy he had to pull his aching body up from the bed, and slowly crossed the room. He didn't even bother to put a robe on. He didn't care if Jones saw him in his silk pants and no shirt. He didn't care about much right now.

"What do you want?"

"Neal, let me in."

Neal opened the door, and leaned on the edge of it as it swung open.

"What do you want?"

"OPR sent down orders for you to be arrested. I came in hopes that you will come in with me."

"Kate gets blown up, and I nearly get killed, and they have the balls to blame it on me? Where's Peter?"

"Neal. Please don't make this harder than it is. Put some clothes on and come into the office, so we can figure this out."

He was irritated now. That was the feds for you.

"Where's Peter?"

"He's been suspended."

Chapter Two

It had been a long four months, the cold prison walls hadn't improved his mood much. Peter had been the only thing keeping Neal out of prison, and once he was suspended there hadn't been anything to keep the feds from throwing him right back in. He hadn't slept much while he was there. The darkness kept creeping in on him, and the dreams woke him up every night. He dwelled on that day, and replayed the whole thing over and over in his mind, hoping for an angle. Anything. Anything that would help him figure out who had blown up that plane. But, there was nothing, just a nagging emptiness that wouldn't go away.

The car was silent once again as he and Peter drove into the city. He snapped out of his daze when he realized they weren't headed for June's.

"Where are we going?"

It was the first time he'd heard Neal say anything since he had picked him up. Neal looked more fatigued now than the last time Peter had gone to visit him a few months before. He hadn't wanted to leave Neal in there that long, he worried Neal would go to a place in his mind that he wouldn't recover from. There had just been so much red tape. OPR hadn't wanted to let him out again. Too much risk this time they had said.

"We're going to my house. El's cooking dinner."

"Peter…"

"No, Neal, she insisted. And you are not going to start off this time around by pissing her off again."

"Well, I wouldn't want you to be in trouble with the misses." Neal did smile. It was more of a smirk Peter thought. Small victories, he'd take it. There was a faint glint in his eye for that split second. Maybe they would be able to push the darkness back.

Peter waited for Neal to get out of the car and start towards the house before he followed. The hop in his step that was normal Neal wasn't there. He watched as Neal approached the door, and pausing, stood up tall, straightened his coat, and ran had hand through his hair. By the time he reached for the door, he was all Neal, all swagger. Peter had to smile. It was amazing to him how Caffery could switch it on at the snap of a finger.

Peter walked to the door and followed Neal in. Something Elizabeth was cooking certainly smelled good. He slowly removed his coat and laid it over the stair railing, keeping an eye on Neal. He could tell Neal was struggling to keep up his façade. Neal stood by the fireplace running a finger over the carvings in the mantle. Peter walked to the table and picked up Neal's tracking anklet. It had to go back on tonight, but now was not the time. He turned and placed it out of sight next to the stereo system. They would approach that in a little while.

Elizabeth Burke had always worried about her husband when he was on the job. But the day the plane exploded was as close as Peter had come to being injured on the job in a very long time. And then there was Neal. She had become very fond of the ex-con artist in the past year that Peter had worked with Neal. Now she worried about both of them, and tonight was no different. She could feel the tension in the air, as she brought dinner out to the dining table. She knew the best thing for them right now was to talk about anything not related to that dreadful night.

"So…Neal…how's the shoulder healing?" Hmmm…maybe not the best thing to have said, and she winced when she saw Neal's unconscious jerk.

"Fine…It's fine." Neal slowly turned to look at her. Her startled look reminded him to quickly wipe the anger off his face.

"I'm sorry Neal. I…I was trying not to bring it up." She could see the hurt and frustration hidden behind those vivid blue eyes. Maybe it was better if they just changed the subject. "Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?"

Dinner was quiet, almost too quiet. It was obvious that Peter and Neal needed to talk, and Elizabeth knew it needed to just be between the two of them. Hopefully they would. They couldn't just stare at the wine glasses all night could they? Neal sat across from her in his perfectly tailored blue stripped shirt. How could a man who had just got released from jail, look so slick? Neal started running his finger around the bottom of his wine glass. Elizabeth new it was time to leave them alone.

"I'm going upstairs. Just leave everything where it is, I will get it later." She stood and walked around the table to where Neal was sitting.

"It's nice to have you back Neal." She gave him a quick peck on the forehead before retreating to the stairs.

Peter could tell that Neal was getting tired. He was finally wearing down to where Peter might be able to get some honesty out of him. He hated seeing Neal look so depleted, it was so out of character for him. Peter glanced over at him, and the memory of that day in the hospital flashed through his mind. He looked almost the same now. Distant, and troubled. He would have to be careful how he handled Neal over the next few days.

"Neal…" Peter had to pause to find the best way to start the conversation. "We will find who killed Kate, but it has to be _us_. Together, by the book. No running off on your own this time."

All he got from Neal was a nod of his head. He hadn't looked up from his staring contest with the wine glass. Let it sink in, Peter told himself. Neal would talk when he was good and ready.

"How about some coffee?" Peter got another nod from Neal. It was going to be a long night. He slowly pushed his chair back from the table and stood. Still no reaction from Neal.

As Peter returned to the table with the two cups of coffee, he noticed Neal watching him carefully. What was going on in that brilliant mind of his? Neal was not one to share emotions. The fact that Neal had been so withdrawn over dinner was only a sign of how truly drained Neal was. There was no spark to his eyes, there was none of the swagger that was usually present with Neal. He was always hiding something, always weighing his odds, but not tonight. Peter put the cups on the table and took up a seat across from Neal. All he could do was wait. He glanced at the clock, it was getting late. He was going to have to approach the anklet conversation soon, and he desperately hoped Neal decided to talk before then.

Suddenly, Neal stood, and crossed to the fireplace. He kept his back to Peter, but Peter did notice a new defensiveness in the way he stood.

"What's our case?" Peter was a little surprised by the question.

"We don't have one yet. Hughes and I thought it would be best for you to settle in for a few days."

Neal nodded again, and turned to face Peter. This time there was a tension in his face, and darkness in his eyes.

"And the anklet?"

"Goes back on tonight. You know that was the deal." He waited for a reaction from Neal, but he didn't get one. "El's made up a bed for you upstairs, if you don't want to go to the Hotel tonight."

Finally a reaction. Neal's head jerked up, and there was a flash in those blue eyes of his. He carefully crossed to the table where Peter sat, and gingerly picked up the coffee cup. After taking a sip, he let out a very slow, controlled breath.

"You mean the Motel? Peter…" There was a pause.

Peter put up a finger to keep Neal from finishing whatever he was about to say. He knew how Neal felt about the Motel. In fact, Peter had the same feelings about it, but the approval for Neal to go back to June's hadn't come in yet.

"I'm hoping to have the approval for you to live at June's back in a few days. I thought I would return a favor, and let you crash here until then. The coffee isn't as good, but the food is decent."

"Decent, huh? I'm going to tell El you said that." There was a playfulness in Neal's eyes as he took the chair across from Peter.

There it was, Peter thought. That mask, he had pulled it out of nowhere again. He had lost his chance to talk to Neal about Kate. There would be no straight answers now. At least this was the old Neal, there was some comfort in that. He just hoped Neal would be able to move forward, and put the past behind him.

"You just like pissing her off don't you?"

"I just like watching you squirm, Peter."

Chapter 3

_**The incessant ringing of the phone made Peter want to throw it across the room. The sun was barely up, and his alarm clock was not set to go off for another half hour. The shrill ring pierced through his sleep deprived head like a dagger. He reached over and silenced the ringer. Whatever it was, would just have to wait. He had been acutely aware of Neal tossing and turning all night in the room down the hall. When he had finally drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, he had been quickly woken back up by a piercing scream. He had resisted the urge to go check on Neal, but there had been little sleep after that. He had no idea how Elizabeth had managed to sleep through it all. Peter rolled over in the bed only to find that she was already up. Damn it. He might as well get up now. His cell phone started beeping to let him know that there was a voice mail. Hopefully Elizabeth had the coffee going. A quick shower would wake him up, then he would find out what was so damn important.**_

_**Elizabeth stood in the kitchen watching the coffee drip down into the glass pot. She had made it extra strong this morning. The strong aroma cleared her head of the fog that was present. The fact that she had slept through the night was a blessing. She knew her husband hadn't. Certainly Neal hadn't either. Poor Neal, it had been four months, and he was still unable to sleep without those nightmares. She heard footsteps in the dining room, coming her way. She turned just in time to see Neal lean up against the door way to the kitchen.**_

"_**Morning… Neal"**_

"_**Elizabeth." **_

_**Neal was already dressed for the day. Tailored charcoal colored pants, and a finely striped light grey shirt. His slim navy and white tie was held perfectly with a platinum tie bar that matched his cuff links. It amazed Elizabeth how this man could be so torn inside, but yet so calm and put together on the outside. Years of practice, she told herself. All those years of being a con man, and he could hide just about anything when he put his mind to it.**_

"_**Are you hungry Neal? "**_

"_**Thanks, but the coffee is fine." He normally would have taken her up on her offer of breakfast, but this morning he wasn't sure he could keep any down. The dreams hadn't been that bad in a while, he needed to get his head clear. He needed something to occupy his mind. He needed out of this house.**_

"_**Neal." **_

_**He turned around to see Peter standing behind him. He too was dressed for the day, but as Neal often reminded him, his wardrobe needed some help. His pleated navy pants, white shirt, and red paisley tie were so generic and off the shelf. Did they issue that wardrobe when you joined the FBI? **_

"_**Peter. What's the plan for today?"**_

"_**Hughes called. We've caught a case. Sorry El, we've got to go." Peter crossed the room, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. **_

_**Neal was silently relieved to be going back to work so quickly. He needed something to distract his ever racing mind. The drive to the office was not very far from Peter's townhouse, but today it had seemed to take forever. Now that they were in the elevator, that seemed to be moving slower too. The whole world seemed like it was in slow motion. The familiar surroundings were comforting, but somehow painful at the same time. As the doors finally opened, Neal let out a sigh of relief. Through the glass doors he could see his desk. It was completely empty now, not the way he had left it. He wondered where all his stuff had gone to. Probably locked up down in evidence locker. The thought of that put a smirk on his face as he followed Peter into the office.**_


End file.
